


Back For Seconds

by WeirdAlterEgo



Series: Hideyhole [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Object Insertion, trans!Tim, unbetaed hot mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27600089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdAlterEgo/pseuds/WeirdAlterEgo
Summary: Tim watches as the golf ball arcs and crashes into the detritus over the bar, empty bottles breaking and glass shards raining down.“Still not in a chatty mood!” he hears Jason tell him as he swings again.Tim smirks. “That’s good, because I didn’t really come to talk tonight, either.”
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Hideyhole [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016472
Comments: 5
Kudos: 149





	Back For Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> I was pretty distracted while writing this. If you see glaring errors, pls scream. I apologize in advance.
> 
> (Holy shit guys, I forgot to add rating for like half an hour. _Shit._ I'm so sorry!!!!)

It’s not easy to use the batcomputer without Bruce or Alfred noticing, but Tim wakes up early enough to sneak down to the cave before either man are to get awake. He isn’t surprised in the least when the sample he took comes up as a match for Jason Todd.

The fingerprints still on the bottle are only partial, badly smudged and unusable. It’s not like Tim was holding out hope that they would be on the glass after all… _that_ , but. He _earned_ those fingerprints, dammit.

Then he spends half an hour making sure none of the cameras show he was down there, and neither do the logs in any of the hardware (and software) he used. Because Bruce is nothing if not paranoid, and Tim is not ready to reveal to him whatever the hell he is doing with Jason. The Red Hood.

He also spends more time than it is wise masturbating before school. He is almost late, too. He just can’t help but play with the thought of Jason doing a lot more than just sticking his fingers into Tim’s needy pussy.

He lays down in his bed, over the comforter, and trails his fingers down his stomach. If he didn’t have to do his chest bindings earlier to get down to the cave and he weren’t pressed for time now, he would undo them so he could play with his nipples. Oh, how Tim would love the Hood unwrapping his bindings to nuzzle his chest, to suck his nipples until they are red and raw.

He imagines cornering the Red Hood on a rooftop, pushing him to the ground, and the man letting him, silently watching Tim with a heated gaze. Tim couldn’t sneak a peek while he sucked Jason off, but he can imagine that gaze, can almost feel it as his fingers slip down inside his boyshorts. He imagines unzipping Jason’s pants, taking out his hard length, the man waiting patiently as Tim kneels over him, Tim’s lips teasing the head of Jason’s cock… and then sinks down in a single plunge that takes both of their breath away. He thinks about how he would ride the Red Hood on a random concrete roof under the neon-coloured Gotham night sky as his fingers glide over his lips to circle his clit.

He imagines going back to that bar, but this time Jason would take him right on that dusty pool table until the thing rattles and shakes with each punishing thrust of the Hood’s hips. Tim would stare up at him, into his lovely blue eyes, see that maddening smirk get wiped from his lips as Tim traps his legs around his waist to pull Jason deeper.

He wants to draw it out, think of more scenarios, more ways of besting the Red Hood, driving him insane with lust until he _takes_ Tim, but his orgasm sneaks up on him. Just a fleeting thought of that bottle in the evidence bag is enough to drive him into a frenzy, and he feels the telltale warmth before his whole body seizes up and locks as orgasm after orgasm washes over him, pussy clenching down over nothing.

When he finally flops over to check the time, he is very glad he didn’t take longer.

***

It’s maddening. Tim thinks he’s gone completely insane. Can’t go an hour without thinking of those thighs, that shivering stomach with that trail of dark hair, that goddamned _smirk_. And then he is wet and distracted, unable to pay attention in class. Any class.

He gives up on school as a lost cause, decides to plan his next step instead. He knows he is safe, none of his teachers would dare calling out Tim Drake-Wayne for being distracted in class. See, he has no compunctions to utilize his names when he needs to.

He comes up with at least 5 scenarios before school lets out, and he gets to make his way home, hoping the horniness ebbs away, but it doesn’t.

It feels like a switch has been flipped in him. He can’t stop thinking about last night, can’t stop feeling it. Can’t stop fantasizing about going back for more. Can’t stop _hoping_ for more.

Can’t stop weaving it into his plans, until they are all just plans of how to get Jason to do it again. Do more. Do Tim, until they are both spent and happy and Tim can lure Jason home to the Manor… or bring him back as Tim’s boyfriend.

Tim stops and stares incredulously at his reflection in the storefront declaring the best burgers in all of Gotham. Did he just… Yep, he did. Next thing he knows he will be writing Tim + Jay, encircled with a heart in his diary, or maybe Mr Tim Drake-Wayne-Todd.

Well, _fuck_.

Unless…

 _Unless_ he can turn it around. On Jason.

He called Tim _replacement_. A word smacking of resentment, and yet he was kind enough and gentle enough to give Tim an out, multiple outs in fact, and when Tim didn’t take them, he made damn sure Tim had the time of his life in that abandoned bar.

Surely that means Tim has a chance there?

He steps away from the glass before the person in there can open the door and ask Tim what the hell he wants, legging it home at double speed. He has a plan to plot, after all.

A plan to seduce the Red Hood.

***

Jason doesn’t go home for a while after the kid bolts.

He is not feeling all to certain what the hell really happened between them. He fully expected the kid to fight him, or condemn him or try to call the other bats on him, but nothing like that happened. And… nothing is happening, still.

It’s certainly off-script for Jason. He had no desire to tangle with any of the bats. Certainly not _this_ way. Harass Nightwing? Sure. Taunt the Bat? Absolutely. Get sucked off by little Robin? _Hell no_!

And yet…

He hastily does his pants back up. Thinks he’s had enough little drinks if he can’t even cover his own damn ass before the imminent bat contingent gets on it.

He leans down to grab his discarded headgear and decides to call it a night. He can trash this place tomorrow. It’s not like it’ll run away.

***

When he wakes up, he doesn’t feel any better about it. But he wakes up, and apparently no bats have tried to break into his safe house.

He isn’t sure he should be glad the Bat doesn’t know, be horrified that he doesn’t care, perhaps wonder how he didn’t notice his adopted kid went home with an alcohol bottle up his tight little pussy that so eagerly sucked Jason’s fingers in…

Nope.

Not going there.

Nope, nope nope. Nope!

 _Oh fuck it_.

He reaches into his boxers, grabs his straining erection and rubs one out, because holy shit, he still can’t stop thinking about it. About the replacement’s wet pussy that twitched so nicely around his fingers while Jason fucked his pretty mouth. The way it sucked in that bottle of cherry vodka, so Jason barely had to push on it. It was fucking hot, and Jason needs to make sure this never happens again, because Bruce would have his ass if he ever touched pretty little Timmy again.

He comes. Thinks about those pretty lips again. Wipes his hands on his boxers before he drops them off into the laundry pile on his way to the shower.

He has a busy day of intimidating mobsters and drug lords ahead of him, he can’t get distracted now.

***

He does get distracted. He glazes over a whole speech one of the underlings does about how good they have been, daddy, so please don’t chop off more heads.

Jason tunes him out as he thinks back on the balls and charity galas he had to attend back in the day as Bruce’s adopted kid. Wonders if he ever has seen Tim, vaguely recalls a dress of fluffy pink, like cotton candy…

He is rudely jerked out of his thoughts by silence. They are all watching him.

Shit. Not _again_.

“What did I say?” He asks tiredly. “Don’t deal to kids, don’t bother the sex workers, and we’re good. Is that clear?”

Crystal echoes around the room.

Jason sighs in quiet relief.

***

Tim doesn’t think he would be so lucky as to find the Red Hood alone, in the bar a second time… but he tries anyway.

As soon as he pushes on the door of the staff exit he hears a crash. He pauses and pulls out his staff, but there are no other noises, so he pushes in. There’s a thump and a crash. Tim stops, waits. He hears another thump and crash.

He edges out from the staff area into the barroom proper and sees the Red Hood standing on top of the pool table, baseball bat in his hand as he…

Tim observes as Jason squats down in perfect golfer position, pulls back the bat like a golf club and then he swings at what appear to be golf balls balanced on the necks of the tiny empty bottles instead of a tee. Tim has to give it to the man, A+ for ingenuity, really.

Tim watches as the golf ball arcs and crashes into the detritus over the bar, empty bottles breaking and glass shards raining down.

“Still not in a chatty mood!” he hears Jason tell him as he swings again.

Tim smirks. “That’s good, because I didn’t really come to talk tonight, either.”

“What, sperm sample or fingerprints not checking out?”

“Actually…”

The bat swings down, tip knocking against the wood of the pool table.

“Go away, Replacement. Go back to the Bat and forget about here. I’m not kidding.”

Tim licks his lips. Can’t help but clench his legs together. Just seeing the Red Hood makes him pleasantly tingly. There’s no way he is giving up his chance without a fight. “What if I don’t?”

Tim can’t catch what the man says next, voice quiet but biting, but he watches as Jason drops the bat and jumps to the ground and leans back against the table. There’s still no light shining over the pool table, so Tim can only make out a shadow of his face, but that face is dark, humourless.

“Well, Timmy, you know my price. Only this time it’s not an itty-bitty glass bottle I’ll be pushing up your pussy. Oh no.” He looks around, Tim thinks he might be looking for something until he looks down, stops. Looks back at Tim. He smirks. “If you don’t leave, little Robin, I’ll see how many eggs I can stuff up your hungry little pussy.”

Tim blinks. Blinks again. Looks down at Jason’s feet, stares at the golf ball on the floor. Swallows.

_Eggs._

He has to swallow again. It’s… it’s fucked up. It’s mental. But he can’t help imagining Jason pushing up golf ball after golf ball as he gently rubs Tim’s clit, cooing praises.

Nope, it’s Tim who’s fucked up, because he is striding closer before he can make the conscious decision to do so. He stares Jason down as he stalks to the other man, working on his belt to pull his pants down.

He pulls his tights down, just enough that Jason can see a hint of pubic hair, and then he smiles sweetly. “Where do you want me then?”

There is a pregnant pause while Tim can see Jason opening and closing his mouth, like a fish out of water. That smirk the man sported? History. Now Jason looks… panicked.

That’s not good. Not good at all.

Tim leans over and starts working on a stunned, frozen Red Hood’s belt buckle. He gets as far as pulling pants and briefs down before his hands are grabbed. Tight.

“I wasn’t kidding, kid. You leave now, or I stuff those golf balls up your pussy without a fucking care in the world. I’ll stuff you until you are so full you are begging me to stop.”

Damn it if that doesn’t make Tim wetter.

In reply Tim pulls one hand out of the Hood’s grip, takes a small bag of antibacterial wipes from his belt pouch, holds it out. “Make sure to wipe them down good first, ok?”

“Holy shit, kid.”

Tim looks up, sees Jason’s face for the first time with any sort of clarity. Gets lost in the familiarity of the features, the single lock of white hair. Wants so bad to reach out and touch, kiss… but he doesn’t dare. The Red Hood is still a mystery, and Tim’s no fool. He knows there's a reason Bruce is hiding Jason’s identity from his family as well as his foes.

Tim settles on cocking a hip and holding the bag of wipes out, daring the man to take it.

It takes a good few minutes, but Jason does. His face passes through incredulity and goes right into stony territory as he plucks the packet from Tim, pulls out a single wipe, drops the rest on the table and reaches for the first golf ball.

“All right then, kiddo, you know what to do.” He says and motions to his straining erection with the hand holding the golf ball.

Tim sighs. Leans down to pull the briefs down (this time more carefully) and stops himself from kissing the head of Jason’s un-coated penis. _Shit_. He fumbles in his belt pouch for another condom, praying for whoever would listen for another one, murmurs a heartfelt thanks when he does. Makes a note to replenish his stock when he gets home.

Tim wastes to time this time, kisses the head and slides down Jason’s cock in a single, smooth move he may or may not have practiced with countless bananas before. (Thinking they were Jason. Oh, the irony.) He breathes in, breathes out until his throat stops spasming and then pulls back and begins to bob.

“Oh shit, kid.” Jason mutters, a hand coming up to tangle in Tim’s hair. “That’s good.”

And Tim is happy. Praise is good. Praise is amazing. The fingers inching down his back, past his ass and reaching towards his pussy? Promising. He groans when Jason sticks two fingers inside him.

_Perfection._

“Shit, kid, you’re so wet.” Jason whimpers, hips twitching up to fuck into Tim’s waiting mouth. “You’re gonna swallow these balls whole!”

Tim can’t help but swallow and swallow compulsively again, and he hears Jason hiss and curse above him. Thinks about doing it again, but just as he pulls back and sinks down again to do it, he feels the uneven edge of what must be the first promised golf ball nudging at his lips.

“Just… make some noise if it’s too much, ok?” he hears Jason ask as it is gently pressed into Tim, but Tim has a vibrator thicker than that, so it goes in smoothly. It amazes Jason though, or so his mumbled “holy shit” indicates.

Tim tries not to chuckle, just bob up and down as he feels Jason’s chest move over him, hears the soft clinking on the table, and then he feels another ball being pushed up his hole, can feel it clink against its buddy already up in Tim’s cunt.

Jason picks up the pace then. No sooner is ball number two up, Tim feels number three joining in on the fun. And then number four slides in, tries to slip back out so Jason sticks a finger in, nudging the other balls back until he can stuff the fourth ball back in. Tim is definitely starting to feel full, and not just because Jason’s cock is down his throat, no.

He breathes a sigh of relief as Jason leans back. Tim pulls off completely, taking gulps of air as he looks at Jason from under his eyelashes. Sees him polishing another two balls.

“Taking a break there, Timmers?” Jason asks, a hand idly reaching down to pump his cock. “Are you feeling full yet?”

Tim shakes his head. No. He’s not full yet. He can take more. He _can_.

“All right then, baby bird. Let’s see how stuffed you are then,” he says, and Tim is whipped around, his pussy tightens down on the balls as he is pushed against the desk with Jason behind him, spreading his lips apart so he can _see_.

Tim squirms as a finger slides inside his cunt, nudging the last ball, pushing them all further back, while he can feel more fingers reaching down to rub his clit, gentler this time, while the finger up his pussy is removed and comes back with another, a fifth golf ball.

“This should be the last one.” Jason tells him as he pushes it up, nudges it until it stays in, his other hand still moving as his fingers circle around Tim’s clit. “Keep them in, baby bird. Keep your little eggs in,” he murmurs as he rubs and rubs and rubs, until Tim is sobbing and clenching down on the golf balls, until Jason has to use his fingers to keep the balls in while Tim comes, orgasm after orgasm wracking his body while the Red Hood fucks his pussy with fingers and _golf balls_.

Tim is still a limp, dripping mess while Jason does his tights up again, making sure everything is secure and Tim has the golf balls trapped up inside him, and then Tim is lifted and deposited on the pool table, head pulled down so he is almost bent double (the golf balls moving and clinking inside him) as Jason presents his angry red erection to Tim.

“Forgot something, did you, little bird?”

Instead of answering, Tim opens his mouth wide, like a little bird awaiting a feeding.

“Holy shit!” comes the awed whisper before Jason feeds his cock back into Tim’s waiting mouth. “Gonna be the death of me.” He whimpers as he fucks in and out (gently, still surprisingly gently) of Tim’s mouth until his pace quickens. “You’re not going to take those balls out until you get home, you understand me?”

Tim nods carefully, because really… where would he feel safe enough to pull his pants down and let out five golf balls? He can’t even imagine if anybody snapped a picture and sent it to Vicky Vale. Imagine the scandal! Or rather… he really doesn’t want to.

“Good. You’ll do tonight’s patrol this way. And you’ll remember me every time you feel them inside you, all right, pretty little bird?”

Tim would nod, but he thinks the question is rhetorical this time. He keeps sucking instead, more so as the pace is picking up, until the Red Hood’s hips are almost a blur, and he comes with a loud, drawn out moan.

This time Tim lets him dispose of the condom, flops down instead, folded up as he is, without a care in the world. He feels pleasantly fucked out and up as well as full and still sort of horny, anticipation building up in his stomach just thinking about making his way home like _that_.

But first… He thinks he might have earned a few answers to his questions.

“How come you’re alive?” Tim asks quietly, watches as the Hood’s back straightens a few steps away.

“There was a lazarus pit involved. But you can guess that much, can’t you?”

Tim swallows back his horror. “Yes.” And then he plows on. “Are you working for Ra’s?”

“Fuck no. That windbag tried to kill me when I took a dip in his used bathwater. I’d sooner kill him than work for him. In fact I think Bruce got rid of him for me. But… well, you can never be sure with that one, can you?”

He’s got a point there, Tim concedes.

“Won’t you tell Alfred you are back? He really misses you.”

Jason turns back then, the look on his face makes Tim straighten up reflexively. “He knows. And it’s better this way. I didn’t come back right, Timmy.” His lips curl up in an awful grimace. “Not how Bruce likes his Robins, at least.”

Tim sighs.

“You could come home,” Tim tells him. “He would forgive you.”

“Yeah well, I don’t give two shits about his forgiveness. I don’t give a shit about Batman, either.”

But not Tim, surely. Not from the way the man still hovers, uncertain, between the bar and the pool table where Tim is still sitting.

“Can I still see you though?” Tim asks him quietly, annoyed that it sounds more like a request and less like a sexy come-on.

It seems to be working though, judging by the way Jason’s mouth turns up at the corners. “You shouldn’t. If the Bat found out he’d murder me and lock you up in a tower till you’re _thirty_. With only Big bird for company.”

Tim smiles at that. That’s rather doubtful. Maybe Jason had a different experience with a less broken Bruce, but as far as Tim is concerned… Bruce doesn’t care all that much about what he does. Where he does it... Or who he does.

“I don’t care.” Tim tells him honestly. “I want to see you again.”

Jason gives a wet, mirthless chuckle. “You really shouldn’t. Honestly, next time I might just stuff a couple of billiard balls up your cunt. Could you take that?”

Tim squirms. Feels the golf balls move as he clenches down his walls. Thinks he just might. Meets Jason’s eyes from under his lashes, smiles, says nothing.

“Shit, kid, this is mad. We really shouldn’t. But fuck it. If you can find me again, I’ll be up for it.”

Tim hops off the table, uses the momentum to flick a tracker on Jason. Almost fumbles the landing as the golf balls begin to push down. But they can’t get out.

Jason stares at him, red faced, mouth open. When he catches Tim’s gaze he whips around.

“Go on then, kid, finish your patrol. Bar’s closed.”

Tim wants to linger, maybe ask for a kiss, but Jason’s back is rigid, and he knows he got all he was gonna get tonight. There’s always tomorrow.

He slips out quietly while Jason’s not looking.

***

There’s a trick to walking with golf balls up one’s pussy. Tim learns it really fast. It wouldn’t do to waddle. He is no penguin, after all. He clenches down his inner muscles until he is in a constant state of arousal/orgasm vicious cycle, but he can walk and grapple without “laying his eggs” as Jason phrased it.

Bruce is not around again when he gets back, and Alfred is not up for chit-chat either, sitting in front of the big screen, headset still on.

So Tim gets to walk up, undisturbed, with the golf balls snugly up his dripping cunt until he can rip his tights off, kneel behind his bed where he cannot be seen from any angle and expel them, one after the other, collecting them up in another evidence bag.


End file.
